These Things Get To Me
by Free-With-Wings
Summary: It all started the night after graduation at a party. Sasha Braus wasn't expecting to find the stranger leaning against the wall to be someone she'd ask to dance, but the drinks she'd had earlier told her otherwise. However, she never got his name. Spending the rest of her summer searching for him, a journey to find the mysterious young man who stole her heart. /Reviews welcome!
1. Chapter 1

_Underage drinking is illegal_. But do you think that she cared? Hell no, she wasn't complaining, not tonight. For the first time ever, Sasha Braus was going to do things her way. Even if it meant getting completely wasted at a house party the night after high school graduation.

Having finished ninth in her class, the Braus girl felt a little sad, but a little not. She was now going to be stress-free for… for like three months. Frowning, the girl downed another shot of whiskey, the fiery liquid burning her throat. _Just need to get a good buzz, forget about the stress_, she told herself, taking a seat in the living room of the house, on a beige couch.

The music was loud, but the estate was large and just outside of town, so it wasn't bothering any neighbors. Since there were no neighbors, there weren't going to be anyone calling the cops on the kids.

_Kids_, she thought with a sneer, _I'm 18, I'm an adult now. I do what I want_. With a huff, she stretched out her arms and let them fall on either side of her, the right one extended onto the couch while the left lay on the armrest. Parties weren't her thing. All through high school, the only parties she got invited to were little get-togethers with her friends, where they marathoned action movies and ate twice their weight in popcorn and potato chips. Sasha hadn't drank much before—other than that one time she went to France when she was sixteen—but she did know her drinks.

She was supposed to be an honor student, doing her homework, getting straight-As, and getting into Ivy League universities. Sasha wasn't supposed to be drowning the pain and stress of the past four years in whiskey shots and wine coolers. High school was over, and yes she had a job this summer, waitressing at a little café in town, but that didn't start for another week. Therefore, she had plenty of time to just do whatever she wanted, whenever.

Suddenly, the music changed. It wasn't quieter, nor was the song something slower. It was upbeat, and the bass seemed to rock the entire floor of the house. She felt the pulse in her veins, her heart, and felt her foot tapping to the beat. Hazily, she stood up and wandered through the crowd, heading toward the stereo set in the next room over where people were dancing. It was far too loud for conversation, and the lights were turned off in this room, save a few by the built-in bar, obviously meant for entertaining adults, not drunk teenagers.

Wait, whose house was this again? Sasha couldn't remember, but that didn't bother her. Something that should have been of concern to her didn't seem to matter anymore. Instead this _beat_, this _music_ filled her. As she glanced around the room, she saw bodies moving together in a mass. She wanted to join them. She wanted to be them.

Sasha wanted to be that girl over there, the girl in the cropped shirt and ridiculously short jean shorts, with the tall, hot guy behind her, grinding his hips on her, one hand on her waist, the other ridiculously close to her chest. Something that the girl should be uncomfortable with, but because of her intoxication, she didn't really care.

_There_, something told her to look to her right. Standing against the wall was a tall, incredibly handsome boy. Maybe it was just the lighting, but his hair almost seemed two-toned, with an undercut that no one without his jawline could pull off. He had a can of beer in his hand, and he was tapping a finger against it to the beat of the song. The flashing lights glared in her eyes for a moment, causing her to wince, but then she found her feet moving toward him.

The brunette girl wasn't shy at all, but she wasn't the type to just go up to a stranger. _No, not a stranger. He finished in the top of the class above me_, that much she could recall. His name, however, was not something she could remember. No matter, that typical precaution wasn't going to ruin her night. She was getting her dance.

Boldly, she stepped up to the broad-shouldered boy, smirked at him mischievously, and placed a finger on his chest. With a slight frown, he looked down at her, a questioning brow lifted.

"You. You're going to dance with me," Sasha stated. This wasn't a question, this was a demand.

"Why would I do that? I don't dance." He pursed his lips, gold eyes narrowing under a now furrowed brow.

"Because I want to dance like _them_," she gestured to the sweating couple she had watched earlier. That pair would've normally disgusted her, but Sasha wasn't in her right mind tonight.

Closely, she watched his eyes follow her hand, glancing at the two dancing, then slowly turned his chiseled face back to her. He tilted his head to the side, blinked, and nodded slowly. "Fine," he muttered, "But only because I'm drunk, and for some stupid reason I think you're hot."

Barely giving him time to set down his beer can, Sasha grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the dance floor. Immediately the music worked its way back into her veins, and suddenly her heart was pumping sound waves instead of blood. She turned her back to him, grabbed his forearms, and wrapped them around her body, placing them dangerously on the waistband of her shorts. At first they just swayed back and forth a bit, but as they both felt the song take over them—it was a new one now, but the beat was just as good—they got more into the movement.

Before she knew it, he was grinding his hips on her, she was moving her back and forth, arms in the air, bangs whipping in her eyes. With a drop of the bass in the song, she ripped her ponytail holder out of her long brown hair and ran her fingers through it, loosening it and causing it to be a hot mess. Sasha hardly knew what was going on, but the lights were flashing, the room was dark, but everything was vivid. In what she lacked visually, she made up for physically.

The way his fingers had moved under the hem of her shirt and brushed her skin sent shivers up her spine. Slowly, she felt his left hand moving from her waist to her hip, then her thigh—her _inner _thigh. This should be alarming, but it didn't even raise a red flag. In fact, it made her move more into him. She pressed her body against his, and with the hit of the next heavy bass note, she dropped herself down, bringing herself back up again, with her hips and rear leading her, dragging herself against his groin before rolling up with her entire upper body. She felt him take a sharp breath in, and felt the hold on her thigh tighten.

His forefinger played with the bottom hem of her shorts, rubbing back and forth against the boundary between fabric and skin. The other hand that had been on her waist was now making its way up her torso, sending a sensation that caused her to arch her back, bringing her arms up and behind her head, placing one hand on his neck and the other ran through his hair. His right hand was now on her ribcage, and moving up. Thumb was brushing the underside of her breast, only cotton fabric between hand and chest. She could feel his fingers tracing the underwire of her bra.

Suddenly she felt electric.

Sasha turned around and grabbed his wrists.

"What the—?" he began to object, outraged that she had stopped.

"Shut up," she snapped, not angrily, but just to get him to not interject, "come with me."

Dragging him off once again, she walked out of the room into what seemed to be a study. The music still coursed through them, the bookcase on the adjacent wall seemed to throb with the beat. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and pushed him into the armchair. He opened his mouth as if to speak again, but she quickly silenced him by leaning forward and placing her lips on his.

"Mmm," he hummed into the fierce kiss, proceeding to grab her waist and pull her on top of him. Her legs straddled his waist as her arms wrapped around his neck, one arm bent to allow her hand to run through his hair. Goosebumps spread across her skin as his hands wandered from her waist to her ass, groping her in a firm, but not harsh manner.

Lips parted, and he thrust his tongue into her mouth, tilting his head for ease of access and to press their mouths closer together. They intensified, hands wandered, but no matter how much they seemed to want one another, they dared not go farther.

Sasha kept a bit of dignity that night.

Somehow, she made her way home, back into the house. She slept off a horrible hangover, and no one found out. However, the next afternoon as she showered, she couldn't help but remember the attractive boy with the undercut. That nameless boy would haunt her.


	2. Chapter 2

_Flashing lights, pulsing beats, a handsome stranger with arms around her waist…._

"Braus! Miss Braus! Are you even listening to me? This order is up, and you need to take it to table twelve."

The harsh voice pulled Sasha Braus out of her own memory. Shaking her head and brunette bangs falling into her eyes, the girl sighed and turned to the kitchen double-doors.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, I'll get right to it. Just out of it today," Sasha rolled her brown eyes as soon as she grabbed the plates and, with a swish of a blue skirt and a flurry of a frilly pink apron, Sasha was out the exit doors and on her way to serve breakfast.

It'd been nine days since the party, and boy, if there was one thing she remembered it was the handsome, chiseled figure she danced with. That attractive boy with the two toned, undercut hair who seemed to have the _best_ body under that tight shirt. At least it felt like it when he had his hands on her hips and his torso pressed against her back. If only she had gotten his name….

"Here are your orders is there anything else I can get you?" She placed the food in front of her guests. As she returned to an upright position after leaning forward, one of the young men in front of her caught her eyes.

_No, it couldn't be_, a strand of hair fell in between her eyes as she did a double-take. There, right before her (if she was not mistaken), was the boy from the party.

Sunlight filtered in the café window, dancing on spiked strands of sandy blonde hair. Golden eyes glanced up under a brown brow, and as his head tilted up, a brown undercut was revealed. Over his broad shoulders was a red v-neck t-shirt that revealed two perfect, attractive, prominent collar bones. In one hand was a cup of coffee, the other rested on his jean-covered thigh. He bit his lower lip, a slight shake of his head before responding, "No, thank you. I'll let you know if we need anything else," and he smiled.

If hearts could literally stop, Sasha's was already there. She opened her thin pink lips and then quickly closed them. What if he didn't remember her? What if the whole party had been a dream and she had seen him somewhere on the street, so he appeared in the dream?

"A-Are you okay?" the boy on the other side of the table asked. He was cute, tanned, and had a face dotted with freckles.

Sasha nodded, "Sorry, I just thought of—of something. My apologies, like I said, flag me down if you need anything," and with a spin on her heel, she was back to the kitchen.

Heart racing, the girl pressed herself against the single bare wall in the kitchen area. That was him, she was absolutely positive. Was it possible that he remembered her? There was barely a chance, and even if he did remember anything, it certainly wasn't the ponytail-haired waitress in a pink, frilly apron at a hole-in-the-wall café he at breakfast at. She ran her hands through her bangs. What should she do?

Well, work for one. Today was not the day she wanted to get fired.

She took out her other orders, returning to table twelve to offer drink refills. When she returned with their drinks, she noticed the party boy looking at her strangely, his golden eyes narrowed as he studied her face.

"Pardon," he began, propping an elbow on the table, "Have we, by chance, met before?" His companion looked between him and Sasha, as if they'd been talking about the possibility.

_Oh lord, they've been talking about me,_ Sasha blinked quickly, hoping her cheeks weren't flushing again. What should she say? _Yes, I met you at a party, I demanded you dance with me, and we got our sexy grind on, would you like to get lunch Saturday?_ Yeah, exactly.

"I—I'm not sure," she said with a small smile, "You look familiar, but I can't place you. That's why I kind of looked like a fish earlier, opening and closing my mouth while looking at you like an idiot." _Sasha, what the fuck?_

"Ah, wait. Were you at that party at the Braun residence about a week ago?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Y-Yes, I was, actually. Perhaps we…. Talked."

"Talked…. Yeah," the boy's eyes clouded for a second, as if he were recalling something. Oh, he probably remembered by now, she crossed her fingers (mentally) hoping he wouldn't say anything further. "I don't believe we were ever properly introduced, I'm Jean Kirschtein."

He extended a hand toward her, smiling. She took it gingerly in hers, shaking it. "Sasha Braus. It's a please to make your acquaintance."

Gesturing to the young man across the table from him, Jean introduced his friend as well: "This is Marco Bodt, a good friend of mine." Sasha went to shake his hand, but the hand he extended was his left, and she quickly switched hands, a bit confused as she stammered out an apology.

"Sorry," the freckled boy smiled shyly, "I haven't got a right arm." The girl's eyes widened in surprise as she looked and there was just a stump of a shoulder. "Don't worry," he said, chuckling, "I was in a car accident a few years back. I've had plenty of looks, but it doesn't bother me."

"Well," Sasha sighed, a bit relieved, "It's wonderful to meet you, Marco."

"I like her," Marco said, looking back toward Jean.

Jean nodded, "Yeah, she's cool," he turned to look at Sasha, "You're cool. Sorry to force you back to your job, but can we get our tickets? We'd like to pay."

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Sasha laughed nervously, "Absolutely, I'll be right back."

She hurried over to the register by the host podium. After punching in some commands, two tickets were printed, ready to be taken to the table. When she returned she smiled.

"Pay whenever you're ready, thank you for coming." She gave a small wave before hopping back to the kitchen.

_Jean Kirschtein_, she hid her face behind her hands, face warm with a blush and lips wide in a smile. He was so much better than the handsome drunk boy she'd seen at the party. Now that she knew his name, she realized how familiar he was. Their high school had been a good size, about two-thousand students, but she knew of most of the honors students. The reason she hadn't known him well was, although he was pretty popular, he didn't do much. She remembered that one year he played acoustic guitar and sang for their homecoming talent show, but she couldn't remember anything other than that. Obviously he was smart, though. It was nice to meet a nice, attractive, fun boy for once. They would have to—_Oh no!_

Sasha's hands flung to her sides, brown eyes wide and round. She'd forgotten to get his number! What if she never saw him again? Granted, this run-in was spectacular, but good luck having another fateful meet-up.

Within a heartbeat, Sasha was out the door of the kitchen and—they were gone. Table twelve was empty. She ran to the table, heart racing. _No, no, you fucked up! You royally fucked up this time, Sasha Braus!_

Wait, what was that?

Sitting tucked under a plate was a napkin with writing on it. In sharp, messy writing was the 'Sasha', a phone number, and the initials 'J.K.'

Hands shaking, Sasha reached for the napkin, taking it in her black chipped-polish nails. Relief flooded over her as she folded it, and after looking around (and after realizing she had no pockets), she stuck it in her bra.

When her shift was over, the brunette hung up her apron, took off her nametag, and grabbed her shoulder bag. In one swift movement, she pulled out her phone and typed the number into her contacts, immediately sending Jean Kirschtein a text.

[To: Jeany Boy 2:08 pm] Hey, it's Sasha Braus. From the Party and the Café.

[To: Jeany Boy 2:09 pm] Would you like to hang out sometime?

Her fingers shook after she sent the text. Should she have not sent that? Was it too much, too soon? Sasha's nerves were calmed quickly.

[From: Jeany Boy 2:11 pm] Absolutely! I hope you like parks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry this chapter is so late! I was having the most awful writing block. Well, here's chapter three, I hope you like it! Chapter 4 is to come soon. I encourage you to like/follow/review this story/chapter, as it would be very useful for improving my writing. If you'd like to follow me on Tumblr, visit my author profile and it is listed there!**

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When her alarm went off the next morning at 9:30 am, Sasha Braus shot up in bed, brunette hair a tangled mess, and brown eyes wide. Her heart was racing at a million miles a minute, like some stupid hummingbird was flitting around in her chest cavity. She groaned, not out of anger or frustration, but out of nervousness. Today, for the first time ever, she was going to spend time with the most attractive young man she had laid eyes on.

After taking a deep, calming breath, the girl got out of bed, stretching her arms into the air and rolling her shoulders back. She yawned, walking down the hall and into her bathroom. After closing the door, she turned the fan on and hummed to herself, undressing. Once the water was turned on and warmed up, Sasha stepped into the shower, standing for a few seconds. The warm water pattered her back, loosening her muscles and washing away the morning drowsiness. Soon she began to wash herself, lathering shampoo in her hair, body wash over her skin, and eventually washing it all off and putting conditioner in her hair, letting it sit while she shaved her legs.

When she was finished, she turned off the steaming water and dried herself on her favorite, fluffy blue towel. After wringing her hair out, she wrapped the towel around her body and went back to her bedroom. She threw open the wooden closet doors, staring into the colorful mess of clothing. What to wear? A dress, but what if they decided to climb trees? But did she have a cute enough top to wear, since she'd be wearing jean shorts?

With a frown, Sasha dug through her tank tops until she settled on a floral crop top. It still had the tag on it, obviously she'd forgotten about it after buying it last august at an end-of-summer sale. She tore the tag off, discarding it in the trashcan and threw the shirt on over her favorite push-up bra, as well as her shorts over her favorite pair of panties.

Stumbling over a stray pair of shoes, Sasha made her way to her vanity, sitting on the bench and beginning to comb through her long hair. A few snarls made her wince as she pulled and tugged, untangling the knots. When she was finished with that, she applied makeup. Not too much, but just enough to frame her face. In the meantime, while her hair dried, she decided to put on some music and read.

After a while, she was able to take a brush through her hair and braid a small section of it underneath. It may not have seemed like much, but playing with her hair always calmed her nerves.

An alarm cut through the noise. A song was going off on her phone, signaling that it was time for her to leave and go to the park where she was going to meet Jean. Just the thought of spending alone time with the handsome stranger sent shivers down her spine. His first impression of her was a drunk, basically horny Sasha, and that really terrified her. What if he thought she was some slut? Was he possibly only hanging out with her because he thought he could get it in? The brunette shook her head, pushing the thoughts from her mind.

No, Jean wasn't that guy. She could just _tell_.

Strapping on her sandals, the girl grabbed her bag and took off, locking the door behind her. The park they'd decided upon was only four blocks from her house, so all she had to do was walk there.

As she exited her house, Sasha stopped on her doorstep and took a couple deep breaths of air. It was pretty warm outside, but it wasn't hot quite yet. Eventually it'd be so sweltering outside that there would be heat advisories throughout the entire state. Last year the AC broke down in Sasha's house, and she they had to stay at her aunt's house across town so they didn't sweat to death. That made going to work (and summer school—she had to retake algebra oops) really difficult, since her job had been at the library a couple blocks from her house, and she didn't have a car yet so she had to either ride her bike or get a ride from her dad. Now, she did have her own car, but on days like today she chose to walk if her destination was close enough.

Skipping down her steps and out onto the hot cement sidewalk, Sasha looked at her phone and stuffed it back in her shoulder-bag. Shit, she had forgotten to eat something before she left, and it was too late to grab something now. Shrugging it off, the girl made her way around the corner.

_Just a block left. Just one…._ Sasha felt herself shaking with nerves. The last time she had really seen her mystery boy and actually hung out with him they'd… well… she hoped he didn't think anything badly about her. There, about 50 feet before her was the entrance to the park.

She stood in the entrance by the gate, taking deep breaths in through her nostrils, out through her mouth. _Here ya go, Sasha, he's there somewhere just—_

"Eep!" Sasha jumped as a hand touched her shoulder, spinning around with her hair whipping behind her. Her heart was beating a million times faster with adrenaline from the scare.

"Oh my god I didn't mean to scare you!" Doubled over laughing was the two-tone haired boy. Sasha's face was immediately red with embarrassment, but she didn't let it get to her.

"You _jerk_!" She grinned, lightly punching his arm. "I don't do jump scares, I shriek like a little girl!"

"Well obviously. You looked like a spooked pony."

Eyebrows were raised, "Do I look like a horse to you?"

"Do I look like a horse to _you_?" Sasha narrowed her eyes, lips parting with a retort to his mocked question. "Wait, don't answer that," Jean nervously scratched the back of his head.

Running a hand through her long hair copper hair, the girl tilted her head to the side and smiled expectantly.

"Ah," the boy smirked, offering her his arm, "Shall we?"

Trying to look nonchalant, Sasha blinked and attempted to keep a straight face as she looped her arm through his. However, the corners of her lips twitched and she couldn't keep herself from smiling.

The two had walked for a while, talking. They'd looked around the park, trying to find something to do or somewhere to sit, but every bench seemed to be taken. As the sun got higher in the sky, the temperature soared as well. After a while they walked up a hill, settling under the shade of an ash tree.

"Man, I'm sweating something terrible," Sasha bit her lower lip as she tied her hair up in a messy bun, "oh, sorry, too much information."

"Nah," Jean leaned against the trunk of the tree, wiping his brow, "You're faring better than I am. I probably stink. Do I stink? Smell me."

All she did was laugh and shake her head. This kid was sure something. Funny, attractive, smart. Now that she'd had a better chance to look at him, she was able to note the muscles in his arms, as well as the ones that rippled under his shirt along his back and torso. _What a mystery_, she thought, _I wonder what he does in order to stay so fit. Especially since he's smart, too. Never met a buff nerd before._

She must've had a grin on her face or something, because as she glanced over, his golden eyes were staring at her in the most peculiar, unreadable way. A brilliant mind, able to mask his thoughts and emotions even though his eyes were still so alive. It was as if there were bits of sunlight in his eyes. _Sure, it's cliché, but it's got to be true_.

"I've an idea," the boy's expression changed to something more relaxed as he stood, arm extended in the air as he stretched out his back. "Why don't we go to my place? I've got an AC and popsicles."

"Oh, you had me at air conditioning," Sasha stood as well, rolling her shoulders back and pushing her bangs out of her eyes.

"I knew you'd agree, Sash," there was his bright smile again. Crooked and almost cocky. Not quite, but almost. "If there's one thing you should know about me, it's that my intuition is great."

"Sure it is, pony-boy," if he was going to tease, she was going to give it right back to him. "Maybe you have intuition when it comes to minds, but I've got it when it comes to action and body language."

Walking past him down the hill, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, briefly looking over and at him. No, she couldn't read him. Not yet. But soon she would be able to. Sasha Braus was looking forward to that day.


End file.
